


Threads

by Lori_S21



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Humour, M/M, Marauders' Era, Post-Marauders' Era, Romance, Time spanning fic, canon compliant death, canon typical sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 15:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7939432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lori_S21/pseuds/Lori_S21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the threads, stitching together the lives of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black inexorably.</p><p>All that time locked away, everything he did or didn't do, nothing like that could ever touch him. Sirius Black has, and always will be beautiful to Remus Lupin...</p><p>From Hogwarts to Grimmauld Place, this is the tale of how hard they fought for their love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threads

_1995_  
   
Bringing Sirius Black home was like living with a ghost.  
   
He tried to make his old friend feel comfortable. Invited him in formally, offering to take his…Rags? It made him feel so stupid. Sirius has no coat to give him, no suitcase full of precious belongings — no belongings at all to speak of. His shoes were falling apart, hair falling to his elbows, matted with filth and tangled beyond repair, still better than when they’d first seen each other in the Shrieking Shack. He’d looked like a walking corpse.  
   
But that’s all so superficial anyway, like the word ‘friend,’ such an unsatisfying label for the twist of tormented emotions he feels for this man. All that time locked away, nothing like that could ever touch him. Sirius Black has and always will be beautiful to Remus Lupin.  
   
The years have not been kind to him. Painfully thin, his ribs were visible through the stinking grey rags that hang off his slight frame. His eyes, once filled with good humour, flashing almost silver at his most mischievous, were now deep hollows, the dispassionate grey of an overcast day. Remus longed to see them vivid and full of life once more, crackling with vitality. He’d give anything to see that look again. The one that smouldered, with just a hint of playfulness that made him feel needed, desired, like he was worth something in a world that often made him feel very unwanted. The look, he’d liked to imagine, that had been only for him.  
   
He hasn’t seen that look in over fourteen years and feels selfish for even thinking of it at a time like this. He doesn’t get to have that anymore. Doesn’t deserve it and right now, it’s about what Sirius needs. Even if he felt like throwing himself at his feet and begging for forgiveness. He wanted to hold him, cry for him, this beautiful broken man.  
   
But he won’t. It wouldn’t be what Sirius wanted and would therefore be selfish, purely to ease his own guilt. The gulf of time and mistrust still remained between them. And there were more important things than going over the gutted ruins of their relationship.  
   
Like the return of Lord Voldemort for one thing. Or more imminently, getting Sirius to rest before he keeled over.  
   
And anyway, the man before him isn’t broken, can’t be, Remus reminded himself. All those years locked up, fed upon by those wretched creatures, and he still found a way back. He has never looked broken around Harry Potter, his beloved godson. Not once.  
   
He now stood awkwardly in Remus’ neat and orderly living room, chaotically out of place, head drooping, swaying from exhaustion. Sirius used to own any room he walked into.   
   
_Oh my friend, my darling friend…_  
   
Remus offered a hand to steady him, to reach out and comfort. He could still feel the pull, that bone deep ache after all this time. Sirius merely backed away, sharply.  
   
“Don’t. Just don’t.”  
   
Remus nodded silently, hands clenched by his sides to keep them from reaching for the man in front of him again. He spent so long telling himself he didn’t exist, meant nothing to him. Just another treacherous murderer, betrayer and destroyer of everything they once held dear.  
   
He had meant everything to him, he had thought they were unbreakable. And to know, after all this time, that it didn’t have to be this way. That it was Peter who in fact, had sewn the first seeds of doubt and mistrust, infecting their relationship before decimating their lives so completely.  
   
Remus started to shake, as though he was the one dead on his feet from exhaustion. He pulled himself together with an effort, repressing the rush of emotions, focused on helping the ghost in front of him.  
   
“My bedroom’s though there,” He said, gesturing nervously. “If you want to rest.”  
   
Sirius looked up at him then, eyes wide, a glimmer of  _something…_ “No, you’re alright.”  
   
Remus felt his face flushing red then, wondering if Sirius possibly misunderstood him. “I mean, it would just be you in there.” He clarified. “Just you. Alone. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”  
   
Sirius’ eyebrows rose at that. A shadow of his former self, twitching at the corners of his mouth, gone as soon as noted. “I know. It’s just, after over a decade of sleeping on floors I’m not all that fussed about beds anymore.” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, shrugged lightly. “Too soft.”  
   
“Oh,” Remus replied lamely, suddenly feeling very tired. It had been a full moon night three days ago. He wasn’t at his best even before his oldest friend had come knocking at his door, bearing the most nightmarish news.  
   
“I want to get clean,” Sirius mumbled to the floor once more, sounding uncertain. Remus felt he would never get used to his new indirect way of speaking, the gruffness of his voice, rusty from lack of use. Sirius was never timid, he filled the room, owned it. Padfoot didn’t need to ask, he just took. He always made eye contact, never flinched away, your home was his. Not just Remus’ home; his clothes, his belongings, his body…  
   
Snapping out of past reminisces, he busied himself by leading Sirius into the bathroom. He handed over his best towel, showed him how to work the shower, setting the volatile thing to the right temperature.  
   
“Muggle technology,” He shrugged apologetically. He was usually magic free when home — too many muggle neighbours, a werewolf’s lot in life. At least no one knew what he was in the muggle world. A certain nameless potions master couldn’t let slip the nature of his condition here. Remus realised his living conditions really hadn't changed much since before Sirius was incarcerated…But he’d rather die than complain about the past fourteen years to Sirius Black of all people.  
   
“Thanks,” Said Sirius in a low voice. Remus nodded, before telling his old friend he’d fetch him some clean clothes.  
   
“Wait one second…”   
   
When he returned laden with black chord trousers, clean boxers, a deep blue jumper and warm woollen socks (because he looks so cold and thin), he finds Sirius already peeling off his ragged layers, struggling from a shoulder wound.  
   
Sirius froze for a moment: “Could you…?” He gestured, arms snared in his shirt.  
   
Remus neatly placed his clothes on the toilet seat lid, before moving closer in the cramped bathroom. He gripped the hem of the tattered shirt; helped to slowly edge it up and over Sirius’ aching shoulders, revealing sharp angles and the stark lines of prison tattoos. He groaned in pain, gasped as the material caught at his body. It wasn’t erotic, a grim parody of what they once were. The universe has a twisted sense of humour sometimes. Remus shook off the ghost of a memory, of traded kisses and certain hands, concentrated on the man before him. Tried not to burst into useless, stupid tears at the sight of his pale form, sharp ribs, those terribly expressionless eyes staring through a sheet of filthy hair at him.   
   
He thoughtlessly brushed the matted hair back with his hand, whispered a small, “Oh Sirius.”   
   
His grief wasn’t just for how Sirius had changed physically, but for all that he had lost. What they have  _both_  lost ( _didn’t even lose him, let him be taken…_ Remus thought, hot stab of guilt coursing through him). There was a moment of eye contact, of understanding. Remus was surprised but not shocked to find that that charge, that current between them was still very much present after all these years.  
   
The other man swayed into him, taking him by surprise. Sirius gently rested his forehead in the hollow of his neck, breath hot against his skin in the steamy room, eyes slipping closed with weariness. Almost a gentle nuzzle as he did long ago, sometimes as a dog, more often in human form. Remus could feel his body trembling slightly, winced at the scratch of his beard, could smell the unclean sweat of his body, a scent like the earth, not that he cared. Sirius’ hand fleetingly touched the small of his back, making him shiver.  
   
“Oh Sirius,” He repeated so quietly, he doubted the other man could hear him over the fall of water. “My Sirius…”  
   
He didn’t know whether he to hold him or not, feared it would be the wrong thing to do. The need to touch was unbearable. He reminded himself this wasn’t for him, flashing back to how Sirius had jerked away before. Sirius decided for him anyway, moving away suddenly, staggering towards the stall, shucking off his trousers as he went. Remus took that as his cue to leave, keeping his eyes firmly to himself.  
   
Later, a clean and nearly presentable Sirius shuffled into his living room. Remus laid his book down on the battered oak coffee table, turned to him. He noted Sirius was only half dressed, clutching the jumper anxiously, skin dimpling in the night air.  
   
“Do you need me too…?” He waved vaguely in his guest’s direction.  _Help you get dressed_  sounded so limp.  
   
“Could heal me up if you like.” Sirius misunderstood. “But I was thinking more of a haircut.”  
   
“I can do both.”  
   
“Go wild,” Sirius shrugged as though it didn’t matter much to him either way. So Remus led him into the kitchen, where his hair could fall freely on the bare floorboards. He positioned him on a high wooden stool, moved behind, and took out his wand.   
   
He saw a long but shallow cut winding down Sirius’ shoulder, raised and angry looking.  
   
“How did you do this?” He asked quietly.  
   
Sirius never answered so he didn’t press it. Merely traced the line of the wound with his wand, muttering  _vulnera sanentur_  under his breath, over and over. He gently repeated the incantation and motion, until the wound gradually shrank and faded. Sirius squirmed as the warmth worked its way down his back, it itched as the skin knitted back together with healthy tissue. He sighed deeply when the spell was finally complete.  
   
“Thank you.”  
   
“You’re welcome.”  
   
There’s a loaded silence as Remus grazed his thumb over the formerly afflicted area, checking it, feeling only smooth skin, now completely healed. Sirius shivered lightly at the touch, breath hitching. He ran his hand over the shoulder, ensuring there was no more pain. Only dropped his hand once Sirius spoke a little hoarsely, breaking the silence.  
   
“You going to de-hair this yeti with that too?” He asked, nodding at Remus’ wand with apprehensive eyes.  
   
Remus smiled. That was almost a joke. He internally thanked Sirius for ending the moment, even if his intentions were strictly professional. He’ll look after him, help him grow strong again, protect him with his life – _better late than never,_ a cruel voice taunted him – but that’s all.  
   
“I think not,” Remus replied, reaching for a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer (enchanted to remain sharp yet never break skin, an ingenious twist on a muggle invention. They could cut in perfect lines or move independently, though had a reputation for being a little too enthusiastic…He didn’t think skinhead was a look Sirius would particularly wish to explore at this point in life). After some consideration, he summoned a comb from his bedroom too.  
   
“Good idea,” Sirius said, nodding approvingly at the scissors. To Remus’s pleasure he broke out into a smile, like a flash of rare sunlight. “Remember when I tried to tame James’ hair with my wand?”  
   
The former professor chuckled, realising perhaps Azkaban didn’t take all the good memories from his mind after all. “Remember? You took his eyebrows off! James wouldn’t speak to you for a week.”  
   
“He looked like a seagull,” Sirius nodded happily, sounding most pleased with himself. “They grew straight back anyway, the cry baby. He was just mad because of his date with Lily, he wanted…” He trailed off, grin fading slowly as though it hurt to remember.  
   
Remus could empathise.  
   
After a moment, Sirius cleared his throat. “Harry’s hair’s even worse though.” He grinned as though proud of this fact.  
   
“I’ve noticed.” Answered Remus, unmistakable fondness in his voice. Trust Sirius to take pleasure from _that._  
   
In the ensuing more comfortable silence, he took the time to scoop up and sort out his locks, much thinner than before but still a rich dark brown. The silky strands were slick and wet, knotted terribly. He decided to forgo the fine tooth comb, muttered a quick incantation to smooth out the nest atop Sirius’ head.  
   
Sirius shivered again as the current ran through him. “Maybe you should start your own business. Hairdresser Moony: Witches, Wizards and Wanted Murderers Welcome.” He announced with a flourish, though his joking had a distinct edge to it.  
   
“You forgot werewolves.”  _And you’re not a murder,_ he didn’t add, keeping things light. He lifted the locks, separating them into segments before snipping away chunks of hair decisively. “I will warn you, I don’t know what I’m doing.”  
   
“That’s reassuring. Still, it’ll be better than Azkaban chic,” He muttered, holding still as the scissors expertly guided Remus’ hand around one of his ears, strands of hair dropping to the floor.  
   
Remus expected more wisecracks, but his friend remained thoughtfully silent. He carefully cut away strands of damaged hair, trying to erase Azkaban from him physically, wishing it was as easy to do so mentally. He lifted sections, running his fingers through it until Sirius was soon leaning back into his touch. His eyes gradually slipped shut, humming under his breath whenever Remus carded his hands though the remaining locks, taking longer than was strictly necessary. He snipped away until it lay evenly just above his shoulders before turning his attentions to the haggard beard.  
   
He cut it right down for good measure, thumbs tracing sharp cheekbones, running along the rough jawline to check it was even. Sirius almost looked peaceful, eyes closed, a sweep of long lashes, face in his hands. He seemed so vulnerable; a rush of fierce protectiveness coursed its way through Remus, overwhelmingly bitter. It made his chest ache with how useless he felt. His stomach twisted unpleasantly as he tried to keep memories at bay.    
   
He stepped away to take in the result, mentally chiding himself for finding any excuse to touch. What he was left with was a similar style to when they were in their very early twenties; young, fighting for their lives but desperately, wonderfully alive. A haircut wouldn’t force that man back into existence again.  
   
He circled around his friend, sweeping away strands of hair with his hands and breath, before drying the hair with a spell, hating to see his frail frame shiver so. He ran the comb through the wavy locks for good measure, though it wasn’t strictly necessary, teasing it until it crackled. He merely enjoyed the way Sirius wriggled back into its touch.  
   
“Feels good,” Sirius said thickly. Remus suddenly realised it must have been years since he’d been touched like this. He ran his hands through the silky lengths once more for good measure, Sirius chasing the sensation which made him smile.  
   
“Like a cat,” He smiled, attempting to keep his own emotions in check. This wasn’t for his benefit though he may be desperate to continue and be touched in return.  
   
Sirius woke as though from a trance, eyes sleepy and almost their usual striking grey in the kitchen candlelight. “You what?”  
   
“I said you’re arching back like a cat.”  
   
“Careful. Those are fighting words they are.” He teased softly. There was a smile in his eyes which Remus was painfully grateful to see.  
   
“Then I will withdraw my most hurtful and thoughtless comment immediately.” He deadpanned.  
   
“Damn right,” Nodded Sirius, a glint still in his eyes. This was great. This was  _wonderful._ “Though admittedly, not all cats are so bad.” He added, no doubt remembering Hermione Granger’s intelligent cat, Crookshanks. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “That’s better. Thank you for de-hairing me, Moony.” Said Sirius.  
   
“You don’t need to keep doing that,” Remus answered softly, handing the jumper to his friend, guilt flaring amongst cautious joy. “You don’t need to thank me for anything ever again.”  
   
Sirius’ eyes were suspiciously bright; he opened his mouth, but said nothing. Merely pulled the deep blue jumper over his head. The colour suited him, though he now looked shockingly pale against the fabric.  
   
Remus blinked a few times, realising he had been staring. “Hungry?”  
   
“Starving. Literally.” Sirius was trying to sound light hearted but the dark humour made Remus wince. Well, that was very Sirius after all, pushing you out of your comfort zone.  
   
A little while later, they settled down to eat hot steak and kidney pie, Sirius neglecting the utensils, an expression of pure bliss spreading across his face. The sight is strangely heart-warming, if not incredibly gross. He noticed Remus watching him fondly as he licked gravy from his fingers in a distinctly canine fashion.  
   
“What? Hungry fella here, not to mention I spent the better part of a decade as a dog. Quit judging!”  
   
“I’m not!” Remus quickly assured him. “And you always ate like that anyway.”  
   
“I did not!”  
   
“The sheer audacity Padfoot! You’re like one of those muggle hoovers.”  
   
“I don’t know what that means and you should pray I don’t find out.”  
   
“I’ll bribe you with more food then, shall I?”  
   
“Yeah, you better…” Sirius threatened, waving a slice of pie at him menacingly.  
   
A warm feeling was spreading from Remus’ chest throughout his body as he prepared another pie for his ravenous house guest. Back turned on Sirius, he allowed himself to smile broadly, lost in the glow of happier times. Times of racing through school corridors, robes stuffed with contraband food from the kitchens, graciously provided by the Hogwarts house elves. Lounging by the lake, with Padfoot, Prongs and even Wormtail making him cry with laughter. And much later, shared kisses, stolen moments and days that became nights with memories that made his heart pound and breath come fast.  
   
He missed the laughter. He missed this love. He missed his friend.  
   
Perhaps this could all work out. He could keep Sirius, keep him safe, keep him alive. It could work.  
   
But as always, a great darkness was cast over their future like the most malevolent shadow. They were carefully avoiding the subject of He Who Must Not Be Named. At the castle, Sirius told him how he’d ranted and raved, shook with rage, hadn’t wanted to leave his godson. Dumbledore had convinced him to seek Remus. To go, recharge, regroup, come back when there was a fighting chance. Reminded him of the necessity of Harry’s current living conditions.  
   
It had killed him to leave Harry behind. Just one night. Only one night…  
   
It was Remus’ job to make him stay.  
   
   
______________  
   
   
_1979_  
   
It was ridiculously hot in his cluttered bedroom.  
   
It’s the first flat he’s ever rented, post Hogwarts. Stuffed full with stacks of dusty but cherished old books and battered notebooks filled with his neat, handwritten notes on all sorts of odd creatures. He is one after all. He feels entitled, even if Sirius mocks him, calls him his little nerd.  
   
He doesn’t expect he’ll get to keep his little home much longer, with its smell of freshly brewed tea, battered comfy furniture, and dodgy door lock that always sticks. There have been whispers, rumours. Dumbledore has started looking at him in that careful, measured way of his at the meetings. The werewolves are massing, joining  _him._ They need someone on the inside.  
   
But now, he was hot and flustered. It isn’t surprising. Fierce summer heat baked the night air, humid and sweltering, making it hard to concentrate on his notes, hard to even breathe steady. Also not helping was Padfoot, who currently lounged on the bed behind him, wearing very little, and talking a lot. About wonderfully inappropriate things. Hence the heat. It’s all very distracting. He remained determinedly at his desk, trying very hard to focus, fists clenched and sweat trickling down his spine.  
   
Sirius knows he was studying intelligence concerning what may be his first solo undercover mission for the Order. He knows they may not get to see much of each other for a long while. He also knows there is a full moon tomorrow, increasing Remus’ stress levels. And…other levels too. He doesn’t particularly want to be studying right now either, such a familiar predicament whenever Sirius is around, even after they have graduated it would seem. Most unfair. What he wanted to do most of all is to pin that infuriating man face down to the bed, rut against him until…  
   
“Reeeemus…” Sirius called out in a ridiculously high voice. “Oh Reeeemus…”

He resolutely turned a page at his desk, refusing to look back.  
   
Sirius groaned dramatically. “Come on Moony. Pay attention to me, I’m bored.”  
   
“I’m working.”  
   
“You know it all off by heart.”  
   
“There’s always more to learn.”  
   
“But look at me. Look how cute I am!”  
   
That got him. He glanced back to see whether Sirius had done something stupid such as transfiguring real puppy eyes onto his face again (not that he needs them).  
   
Of course he hadn’t. He was shirtless, fresh out the shower, broad chest tanned, flesh damp. Soft hair smoothly framed his perfect face. He teased his full lower lip between his teeth, peering up through his lashes at Remus. He’s pulled his jeans back on. The tight black ones that make Remus want to thank every known deity for the way they sculpt his body.  
   
It should have looked ridiculous, this obvious attempt at seduction. Instead his stomach dropped, blood rushing south. He squirmed, tearing his gaze away with an effort when Sirius jokingly fluttered his lashes at him, knowing it’s already much too late. Sirius has already heard that gut-punch gasp of air he made at the sight of him. He could practically feel his triumphant smile.  
   
Still, he made a valiant effort.  
   
“Your cuteness isn’t the issue here.”  
   
“I should bloody well hope not.” Answered Sirius proudly, voice low and smoky, prowling closer along the bed.  
   
“Full moon tomorrow.” He said by way of explanation. Sirius  _knows_ this.  
   
“Yes…?” Sirius dragged it out in an infuriating manner.  
   
“You know very well what, Pads.” He snapped, forcing his eyes to stare at the now meaningless text, staying away from the boy on the bed.  
   
“Aw. You all cranky and moody, baby?”  
   
Remus shivered with undeniable pleasure at the unexpected endearment. It’s not a nickname Sirius used often with him. Although he’d never admit it, it always made him feel younger, so carefree and wanted, so alive – cute even. Just a normal man and his boyfriend, spending time together. Not a scarred, grizzled old werewolf who feels twice his age, locked in a war that shouldn’t be happening. The way the expression rolled of Sirius’ tongue in that low voice though… Of course, Sirius misunderstood his reaction.  
   
He laughed warmly. “Can’t pull that off, can I?”  
   
Remus snorted. “You can. I can’t.”  
   
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re gorgeous.” Remus flushed, absurdly pleased at the compliment and trying hard not to show it. Sirius once called him that, many years ago at the Yule Ball. It was the first time he knew how deeply he was in trouble.  
   
Now the grown man stood behind him. He wrapped his arms around Remus’ shoulders, nuzzled into the side of his neck as he murmured into his ear. “Come on Moony. I know you’re nervous.”  
   
He swallowed hard, feigning disinterest. “Oh really?”  
   
Sirius hummed agreement. It vibrated right down his body. “Yeah, I do.” He placed a lingering kiss on his pulse point before continuing. “Times are changing. Horrible things are happening. You might be leaving me for a while.”  
   
The scent of Sirius surrounded him as he slipped a hand under the collar of Remus’ shirt. He teased soft skin and sensitive scars with clever, certain fingers, popping buttons open as he goes. Remus’ eyes fell shut. He leaned back a little, notes abandoned, licked his lips helplessly…  
   
“But you’re here now. And I’m here too.” Sirius added smoothly, hand gliding over a pectoral. Such clever hands… Closing his eyes hadn’t helped. His senses were drowning in Sirius Black.  
   
“Siri…” He nearly whined.  
   
“You’re frustrated.” He continued huskily.  
   
“Yes.”  
   
“Hot and bothered.”  
   
“Your fault.”  
   
“Thank you,” Sirius sounded positively delighted.  
   
“Wasn’t a compliment.” Remus slurred.  
   
“Yes it was.” He could feel his smile against his cheek as Sirius kissed his earlobe. Dammit.  
   
“You don’t have to be Mr Calm and Composed all the time – not with me.” He could feel Sirius’ words against his neck as he pressed lasting kisses down his pulse point before admitting in a whisper, “It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared too.”  
   
Remus hummed, leaned back into the embrace. Sirius’ words are important, but they were getting lost in his hindbrain, all meaning slipping away in a fog of  _want._ Sirius continued to press slow kisses against his overheated skin, voice low and suggestive.  
   
“You need to let it out…”  
   
Nuh-uh. “That is  _not_  going to happen.” Remus said, less firmly. Seduced with confessions. He cannot even get angry about it, not when he could hear the sincerity in Sirius’ voice, could feel that raw edge of vulnerability. Maybe this was something that they both needed. A release. But he promised himself after the last pre-full moon encounter…  
   
“You won’t hurt me.” The smoky voice was in his ear, tempting, hands pressing, wrapping around his neck teasingly. He leaned back, offering his throat in a wolfish gesture.  
   
“I bet I would.”  
   
“Didn’t the last time.” Sirius countered, scraping teeth along the tendons of his neck, a dominant gesture that made Remus achingly hard.  
   
He groaned. Pretty lies. The last time was the last time as far as Remus was concerned. He’d thrown Sirius down, bent him double, lost control… Sirius had winced every time he sat down for a week afterwards. Never again. Not this close to the full moon.  
   
“Remus…” He said he name like a caress. “You think I don’t understand, but I do.”  
   
“Hmph.”  
   
“You think I just want the sweet and bookish bloke who blushes like a loon, has a wicked sense of humour and an arse that won’t quit?”  
   
“Hey!”  
   
Was that an insult?  
   
“I don’t.” His voice was quiet, low and maddeningly sexy. He prowled closer, circling round. Remus could hear it, felt him. He opened his eyes. “Stop separating everything. Stop shutting me out.”  
   
He pushed Remus’ chair back, sunk down onto his lap before leaning in close, weight hot and heavy. Lips grazed his ear as he continued, lithe body rocking gently in a wonderful rhythm. In those jeans, that denim, he must have been able to feel every inch of him. They both fit together so perfectly. Always have... He stretched and the effect was mesmerising, all taut muscles and miles of skin. Remus wanted to drag his teeth across his chest, taste his heartbeat. He settled for burying his face against his chest, lost in the wonderful scent of him, stomach flipping with helpless excitement. His tongue teased a trail over salty skin, tasting him, before he even realised what he was doing, forced himself to stop.  
   
“Who knows how long we got?” Sirius voice rumbled, unsteady now. Before his mission? Before they die? Sirius doesn’t specify, didn’t need to. There is never enough time. He ran his hands down Sirius’ chest with just a hint of nails, all the way to his back so he could pull him closer, felt him shiver.  
   
“I want all of you.” Sirius gasped, hips circling, grinding hard, making him gasp. “The man, the wolf, every single part of you…” He ran his tongue along the shell of Remus’ ear with the barest hint of teeth. Remus did not whimper. He  _didn’t._ He gripped Sirius’ slender waist, barely hanging on as Sirius nipped at his neck, breath ghosting over sweat, tongue teasing. He must have been able to hear his heart, taste his pulse,  _feel_  it where they were pressed together so tightly, just as he could sense every aspect of him. He could hear Sirius’ resounding heartbeat, quickening with arousal. Could smell his masculine musk, practically  _tasted_  him in the air, every sense heightened. They were both panting, hands hungrily running over each other’s bodies.  
   
He suddenly leaned back so far that Remus instantly felt the loss of heat and full body contact. He looked up into pair of blazing grey eyes, a beautifully flushed face. “You think I don’t get that the wolf is a part of you. Like you’re separate or something. But I do. Of course I do. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I want _all_ of this you cranky, growly, pre-menstrual mess of a –”

Remus had decided that was quite enough talking from the silver tongued one thank you very much. He grabbed fistfuls of lush hair, pulled Sirius’ gorgeous face close enough to press a furious kiss to his open mouth. He kissed him desperately, like Sirius was what he needed to stay alive right now. For all he knew, it could be true, certainly felt that way. He tasted him, mouthed at him, growled into his mouth…  
   
“Oh god, there you are…” Sirius gasped in the brief few seconds Remus allowed him to pull back, running his hands though his hair, grinding down  _just right_  whilst Remus bucked up helplessly in response.  
   
One hand in his hair, other on his hip gripping hard enough to bruise, pressing up into that warmth, the wonderful friction of those tight jeans, nearly jolted Sirius off his lap. He stood up abruptly, lifting Sirius with him as though he weighed nothing. They never stopped kissing, wet and frantic, his lover’s legs obligingly circled his waist until rudely thrown on the bed. Then Remus was on him, everywhere, wanting everything at once: skin, lips, tongue, teeth, cock.  
   
He stripped him, tore at layers until he could feel skin on skin, hot and slick, groaning with relief. He unceremoniously forced Sirius legs wide apart so he could settled between them. Then later, roughly opened him up with a soothing balm normally used for his scars. Such a role reversal from a few nights ago when Sirius had slowly, painstakingly worked him open until he was writhing in his hands, a squirming mess, begging Sirius to take him. Sirius had looked so smug then, had enthusiastically obliged.  
   
He didn’t look so smug now, biting his lip, pupils blown with lust, hair a gorgeous tangle. Sirius gasped into his shoulder, squirming against his hold as Remus prepared to claim him, raking nails down his back. He bit, kissed, sucked on his pulse encouragingly, which Remus didn’t reciprocate even when this far gone, no biting this close to full moon, not ever. Sirius’ hands gripped his pelvis, fingers sliding right over where Remus wanted him most, positioning him, encouraging him. Instead, Remus rudely flipped him, positioned him the way he wanted, shapely ass in the air, wrists pinned to the mattress, trapped beneath him. He waited just long enough to make Sirius beg, bucking up wantonly whilst Remus’ mouth watered at the sight before him. He savoured the image, barely hanging on, before he lined himself up, took a deep ragged breath and fucked him.  
   
They had never had it so good, never felt so alive. Legs spread, hips snapping, dirty, wild, perfect release. Sirius muffled screams into the pillow, pushing back desperately, eagerly seeking more, faster, harder, deeper. Remus cursed and snarled desperate confessions, angling his hips so he could make Sirius shake and moan, pulling his body back to claim him deeper. Sirius clenched around him, swore violently, moaning as Remus sucked the skin of his neck. He took him, over and over until they both fell apart.  
   
When the sweat was drying on their bodies and they both lay there trembling, Sirius pulled Remus into his arms, trading sloppy kisses. He’d pushed his hair back shakily, looked at him with no judgement, only perfect contentment. They fell in to a hot, sticky sleep in each other’s arms, bodies tangled together. Of course, in the morning Remus repeatedly apologised again and again, almost on the verge of tears despite Sirius’ lazy smile, his languid limbs and blissed out expression.  
   
“Remus, believe me, you never need to apologise for making me come like that.” He had drawled, embarrassing Remus terribly.  
   
“Shut up!” He yelped, glowing red, though trying not to laugh. Sirius always knew just what to say, knew him too well.  
   
The only reasonable response was to hit him with a pillow, then pin him — much more gently this time — and kiss the wicked smile from his face. Followed by every bruise he may have given him last night, tenderly, Sirius reassuring him all the while.  
   
“Never again,” He mumbled into Sirius’ skin. His passion, his desperate need for the other man almost scared him with its intensity, especially around the full moon.  
   
“We’ll see…” Was the smug rumble of a reply.  
   
And if it was a calmer, much less stressed Remus who locked himself up on the night of the full moon, well, he wasn’t going to tell Sirius that.  
   
 ____________________________  
   
_1975_  
   
   
“I look ridiculous.”  
   
Remus’s face was creased with misery. His brown lacy robes were patched up, the best his mother’s money could buy so he’d rather go the Yule Ball stark naked than complain to her.  
   
Doesn’t mean he can’t complain to his friends though.  
   
“I don’t know. Think you’ve got a kind of roguish charm about you,” Grinned James, resplendent in midnight blue robes as he bobbed into the view of Remus’ reflection. “Don’t you think so Pete?”  
   
Peter, polishing his wand on the sleeves of his own velvet green dress robes (a different colour for each marauder as agreed), sending an alarming amount of sparks at them in the process, looked up, blinking rapidly. “Oh yes. Like a pirate.” He meant it kindly, smiling as though he’d successfully selected the perfect compliment.  
   
“That’s great. Just great. Thank you for the affirmation, Peter.” Said Remus, trying to sound as if he meant it.  
   
It was their first ever school dance, the Yule Ball, a nostalgic recreation organised by the Historical Events Society in honour of  one hundred and eighty years since the last one. Sadly, there was no Triwizard Tournament to accompany it, much to James and Sirius’ chagrin. Still, the night was young and their dates awaited. Alice Peabody was his — a pretty, intelligent girl with a round face, big eyes and a sunny smile. The only thing was, he just couldn’t shake the feeling she’d rather be going with fellow Gryffindor, Frank Longbottom instead.  
   
James, of course, would rather be going with Lily Evans than Sarah Bones ( _“I’m wearing her down…”_ ) Peter… Well Peter’s Peter. Just happy to be going at all, especially with the lovely Marlene Mckinnon. And Sirius…Who knew what Sirius was thinking? His date was a stunning older woman from Ravenclaw. Naturally. Remus couldn’t remember her name.  
   
“Where is Sirius anyway?” Remus asked, desperately attempting to flatten his lace collar, but to no avail. He was mildly amused to see James attempt the same thing with his wild hair, blocking the only mirror in their dormitory with its enormous circumference. Sirius once likened his hair to a solar eclipse, devastating the natural order in its wake. James had been less than amused.  
   
“Losing battle there mate,” Peter bantered, though neither of them was sure who he was referring to.  
   
James flipped off his friend just in case, before answering. “Sirius? Oh, he’s in the bathroom of course, falling deeply in love with his own reflection as we speak… So! Shall we go down now then?” He added cheerily, though looking slightly nervous.  
   
Remus glared at his reflection once more. “I’ll be down in a minute.” He still needed to find his tie, the smart black one gifted by his father that he was actually quite fond of. James and Peter sidled out of the tower, patting Remus on each shoulder as they went.  
   
“Don’t spend too long obsessing.” Advised James. “I’ve got a feeling they’ll be some fireworks tonight...” He added mysteriously, swinging his arm round Peter’s shoulder with ease as they left. Remus didn’t even want to know what that was supposed to mean. He desperately prayed for any fireworks to be of the strictly metaphorical variety, especially if they haven’t consulted him beforehand.  
   
He shook his head distractedly before continuing the search for his tie, eventually locating the offending garment in his trunk. He was just smoothing out the material and looping it round his neck whilst pondering if he’d have to kiss Alice ( _oh dear god how do I do it?_ ), when Sirius strolled in and Remus stopped dead cold. Sirius was... He looked…  
   
Well.  
   
Sirius looked stunning.  
   
No other words seemed to fit. Stunning, Merlin help him. Maybe he should join the fan club. But it’s fine. It’s okay. He could appreciate this objectively, calmly, because Sirius was his best friend and the whole school already knew how attractive he was. He’s allowed to think of him as stunning. It’s his right. This isn’t brand new information except somehow it is. He’d always known Sirius was handsome of course. He just hadn’t realised he was so damn  _beautiful._  
   
He wore jet black tails over a crisp white shirt with matching fitted trousers. His long tie hung loose around his throat, shirt slightly open below the collar, exposing tanned skin. He looked like one of those supernaturally handsome muggle movie stars and also like a respectable Black - even if he refused to behave the way his family thought a respectable Black should (namely not in Gryffindor, not friends with a werewolves or blood traitors and not secretly fixing up a muggle motorbike in the hope in may one day become airborne…).  
   
His long dark hair was lightly tied back, strands framing those noble, proud features, enhancing them. His eyes were bright, a hint of nerves barely visible in his expression, brow creased, almost vulnerable as he bit his lip. _Those are good lips…_ He’d never noticed before… Showing nerves was also another first for Sirius Black.  
   
“How do I look?” He asked, dancing a little jig, shiny shoes tapping, ending with jazz hands and a cautious smile which Remus couldn’t help but return, even as he rolled his eyes.  
   
_Edible.  
   
Ridiculously handsome.  
   
Your date is one lucky lady…  
   
Utterly, heartbreakingly beautiful._  
   
Some of those reactions surprised him (particularly the edible one) so he settled for a safe and mild: “Good!”  
   
“Only good?” His smile faltered before being replaced with his more familiar mischievous beam. “Tis high praise indeed Moony my dear friend.”  
   
“You don’t need me for that,” He replied, mouth strangely dry as Sirius sidled closer. “I’m sure you’ll receive sufficient compliments from everyone tonight.”  
   
“D’you reckon?” He asked, eyes sliding slyly over to his reflection, before focusing on Remus again.  
   
“You know you will.” Sirius actually had the nerve to look surprised at that, scrutinising Remus’ expression until the young werewolf had to look away.  
   
“But your compliments are the best,” He said thoughtfully. “Hard to come by yes, but you actually mean them.”  
   
Remus considered asking just what exactly that was supposed to mean, but then Sirius winked at him, shaking his head ruefully. The moment passed by, harmlessly enough.  
   
“I just don’t feel comfortable dressing like this.” Sirius confessed in a stage whisper. “So formal, so…” He trailed off, arms waving, struggling. Remus immediately understood.  
   
“Much like your parents?” Remus supplied.  
   
“Yes! Thank you!” He grinned. “Second thoughts, ew! Take that back!” He nudged Remus playfully in the ribs before lining themselves up side by side in the mirror again, looking satisfied. Both tall and thin. Sirius dark, Remus fair. Sirius straight backed, aristocratic, Remus stooped, still feeling the effects of the last full moon. Sirius’ skin was smooth, Remus’ scarred.  
   
“I’m nothing like them.” Sirius said quietly to himself, now looking at the floor.  
   
Remus didn’t know why he did it. Perhaps to reassure, maybe just because he can’t not, but for a brief moment, he grazed the back his hand against Sirius’. Lightly trailing his fingers, he is shocked by the spark that jumps between them at the contact. Is it in this mind? Could Sirius feel it too? Not making eye contact, heart jackhammering, he took the hand in his for mere seconds, squeezing gently before letting go. He meant to comfort, to show understanding. Sirius could never be like his parents if he tried. He was worth so much more. Remus couldn’t find the words to say it, but hoped he could at least show it.  
   
When he at last risked a glance at Sirius’ reflection, he could see his friend was wearing a small smile that was almost shy in its cautious beauty.  
   
So naturally, Remus ruined the moment.  
   
He cleared his throat. “At least you’re not wearing a table cloth.” He joked, though it came out rather sadly.  
   
Sirius’ eyebrows rose at that. “What? Oh shut up Moony, you know you’re gorgeous.”  
   
He said it offhandedly as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, completing his ensemble. Didn’t notice the way Remus’ cheeks flushed with colour, pleased at the compliment. Doesn’t have the slightest clue how his words made something in Remus’ stomach twist in a not altogether unpleasant way. _What was going on here?!_  
   
“Hmm. Well…Thank you?”  
   
Sirius looked up, met his eyes in the mirror. “For what?” He asked, genuinely puzzled. “Come here, your collar’s all skew whiff.”  
   
Remus held deathly still as Sirius adjusted his collar accordingly, somehow getting it to lie flat with ease on the first attempt. Not at all annoying. “I’m telling you, this colour makes your eye colour kick right off mate. Amber and brown…Good call.”  
   
Sirius smelt like aftershave and fresh treacle pie for some reason. Looking into his face was like staring at the full moon. Luminous, dangerous and unadvisable in his case, also completely terrifying for very different reasons.  
   
“Now…That’s better,” He murmured, voice gentle as his hands as he sorted out Remus’ tie for him. He seemed to be perfectly unaware of the effect his proximity was having on his friend. He took another look at them in the mirror, hanging on Remus’ arm before wistfully sighing: “Our children would be so beautiful!”  
   
Remus sputtered: “And imaginary!” Earning a bark of surprised laughter from his friend. He turned to him, suddenly looking serious (the taboo word. Never to be said aloud unless you wanted a certain member of the most noble house of Black to bob into view, cheesy grin in place with an innocent “You called?”).  
   
“Tonight we will be perfect gentlemen. We’re going to forget where we came from in my case, and all about our, ahem,” he coughed daintily and air quoted. “’Furry little problems.’ We are just a couple of sophisticated scholars enjoying ourselves with good friends and interesting company. No one’s gonna get set on fire or turn the Slytherins bogey green.” As if that were Remus’ fault! Okay, he may have helped sketch out some the finer details…  
   
“I believe that was your doing!” Remus protested weakly.  
   
Sirius held up a hand to silence him, with a look that said oh please, before stepping back to admire his handiwork. He gave Remus a bright smile that was lovely in its sincerity, left him feeling oddly lightheaded.  
   
“That okay with you, Mr Moony?” His eyes were still so warm, so playful, even before he was Mr Padfoot, Remus found himself nodding at his words.  
   
What else could he say? “Of course, my friend.” He replied numbly.  
   
And with that, Sirius offered Remus his arm as they exited the dormitory, as if he was going to be his date for the evening. Not that he’d want that. Of course not.  
   
“C’mon Rem. Let’s show ‘em how it’s done.”  
   
 _____________________  
   
   
_1978_  
   
The bride looked radiant.  
   
Of course that’s how brides are meant to look but in this case it was absolutely true.  
   
Lily Evans – now Potter – resplendent in white, was smiling with such hope, such perfect happiness for her new husband as they glided around the dance floor. Remus could barely stand to glance at James, who looked as if his whole world was in his arms. Suited up respectably, crazy hair less so, his expression as he beamed down at his new wife was almost enough to bring tears to Remus’ eyes.  _Almost._ Peter had howled throughout the entire ceremony and Sirius as best man, kept punching the groom on the arm ecstatically, grinning like a loon with suspiciously bright eyes.  
   
He’d already thrown the bride over his shoulder once, acted as though he was trying to make off with her, to much laughter and amusement. He’d danced with both Potters in turn, Remus watching with so much love in his heart he could hardly bear it.  
   
Sirius’ speech had been wonderful, recalling memorable tales such as their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express ( _“Didn’t go well…”_ ). And Lily’s hysterical laughter regarding a later incident on that very train concerning James, Sirius and a surprisingly robust Trolley Witch that had the wedding party in stitches. But not as much as Sirius’ re-enactment of James attempting muggle roller blading - Lily’s choice of summer holiday date, arms flailing wildly, baffling many in the room with the concept alone (he’d failed to mention both he and Remus had also been there on a double date and he’d been equally confused and useless: _“Tiny wheels…On your feet? What’s wrong with these people Evans?!”_ ). Lily hexing the eyebrows off her future husband’s face also proved to be popular. Poor James.  
   
Remus had spent much of the evening with Peter, drinking butterbeer and soaking up the atmosphere. Peter had kept hiccupping into his drink, rubbing his arm absentmindedly for some reason. Remus had cheered him up by reminiscing ( _"Remember that time Moony kept trying to lick you in rat form?!"_ ) and plying him with alcohol. They all had a turn with Lily on the dance floor, even a blushing Peter. Upon Remus’ go, Lily had placed a kiss on his cheek, smiled up at him.  
   
“You’ll look after yourself won’t you, Remus? And that nutter?” She added fondly, nodding in Sirius’ direction (who was currently shoving cake in James’ face. Literally). He’s not sure if she’s referring to his position as resident Sirius wrangler, or whether she means his friend’s occasional mood swings that seem to be increasing lately. Sirius is just passionate and tempestuous really. He’s fine…so Remus shrugged lightly, promise coming easy enough.  
   
“Of course,” Remus answered. The concept of him and Sirius was never openly discussed, but somehow always understood. They were private, special, if undefined. Lily was one of the first to know about Remus’ feelings, even before Sirius did.  
   
When they had told Peter and James their reactions had been almost disappointingly stoical ( _“Well duh! Your dots on the map are always close together Pads, like really, really close together…”_ James had teased. _“Had five galleons on it,”_ added Peter).  
   
Lily gave his arm a squeeze, pulling his thoughts back to the present. “I thought this may be hard on Sirius, but look at him.”  
   
Remus can’t deny she is right. If there is anyone whose happiness even comes even close to rivalling the Potters, it belonged to his beloved Sirius Black. Smile bright, open and unguarded. Posing for pictures, barking with laughter, life and soul of the party, determined to be having the best time. Almost too determined.  
   
Perhaps it only seemed that way to Remus because the man himself had whispered into his skin only last night, about how he was scared by how fast things were changing. How he would miss his best friend but would always, always be there for him.  
   
Remus had brushed his hair back, kissed him deeply, said nothing. Just listened, fingers tracing shapes on the bare skin of his back. War was coming, pulling them all in. Times would be hard, but they would stay together: the four marauders and their lady Lily. They would make it. They were too young to die.  
   
“Sirius can handle himself,” He replied, giving Lily an affectionate squeeze. Then wincing as Sirius nearly fell over in the background, clutching at the cake splattered groom to steady himself. “He may look a little simple right now but…”  
   
James caught them looking, beamed at them as he wiped himself off with a quick spell.  
   
“He’s a lucky man,” Said Remus, nodding at James.  
   
“I know,” She joked, blushing prettily. “So’s your Sirius.”  
   
He didn’t protest about Sirius being his and they continued to dance contently. The music went a little more up tempo, so he just had to dunk her then, spin her until she was laughing giddily. They whirled and glided, an uncoordinated mess, trying their best until they were bent over with helpless laughter.  
   
“Careful with them precious goods Moony,” Drawled James fondly, now cake free as he cut in, wrapping his arms around his lovely wife.  
   
“Don’t make me hurt you on our wedding day.” Replied Lily. “Precious goods indeed!” She scoffed.  
   
Remus laughed, kissed Lily on the forehead, slapped James on the back, and made his way over to rescue Sirius, who was currently being repeatedly kissed on each cheek by a rather tipsy elderly relative of Lily’s, one of the few who’d been able to come.  
   
He stopped by the bar on his way over, to gulp down a shot of fire whiskey or two. Not much of a drinker but needed the Dutch courage (plus it tasted a little like Sirius, not bad at all really). The band begun to play something with a slower tempo, almost dreamlike with the tinkle of chimes and heartfelt pull of violins. It was beautiful, so summoning his courage, he marched over to his friend.  
   
He fake-casually wandered up behind Sirius, tapped him on the back. “Excuse me, sir?” It came out more formally than intended so there was genuine surprise on Sirius’ face when he saw who his rescuer was.  
   
“Remus!” He cried in delight before muttering in an undertone help me! “So sorry to love you and leave you Ms Daisy, but my good friend here wants me badly.” He said, winking fiendishly at Remus, unable to resist the allure of a good innuendo. The unimpressed werewolf managed to extract him from her clutches with some difficulty.  
   
Sirius gratefully allowed Remus to pull him away from the crestfallen little old lady, who had blown a kiss goodbye at him (which Sirius naturally returned, such a flirt).  
   
“This wedding is wonderful! The way that cake floated in! Just like magic!” She called out happily, both of them nodding in uneasy agreement as they backed away.  
   
“Oooer. Her hands were in bad places.” Sirius shuddered, making Remus snort with helpless, only slightly intoxicated laughter.  
   
Sirius peered into Remus’ eyes, scrutinising with a wicked gleam underneath. “You’re smashed!”  
   
“I am not,” Remus insisted, simply outraged. “You’re the one copping off with little old ladies.”  
   
“Just the one I’ll have you know and she’s a fine old bird, won’t hear a bad word said about her!” Sirius replied airily, practically beaming. It was that smile, that look, the one that lit up with fondness, made his stomach flip.  
   
“Am I going to have to fight to keep you?” He mused, firewhiskey making him silly and brave, an excellent combination in his humble opinion. Was in Gryffindor after all.  
   
“Ooh such a tempting image...” They both clutched each other then, having a catty little giggle at the prospect.  
   
“I’m not sure I could take her. She’d probably win with those bold wandering hands of hers.” Remus added solemnly, wiping his eyes as Sirius wrapped an arm around his waist.  
   
“Don’t remind me,” He grinned before murmuring into Remus’ ear. “You better just keep me anyway then.”  
   
Remus swallowed hard, suddenly very warm. Just like that, he just knew it was going to be one of those nights where he wouldn’t be going home alone. Sirius’ hands were holding him firmly, in socially acceptable places, but his touch burned through his robes, gripping surely. Suddenly Remus longed to feel them on bare skin, skimming his chest, down his spine, his hipbones...  
   
“May I have this dance?” He asked roughly, heart hammering for a number of reasons. One: they have never been more open or public about their relationship; he didn’t know how Sirius would respond; and two: Sirius had never looked more bloody handsome in his dress robes.  
   
To his delight, Sirius practically beamed at him, wrapping his other arm around Remus’ waist before pulling him closer. “You lead.”  
    
And so Remus did. He wound his arms around Sirius’ shoulders, moved closer until they were pressed firmly together, chest to chest, hearts racing. He noticed a few people looking their way which was quickly remedied by hiding his face in Sirius’ hair, inhaling the clean scent slowly, heart rate gradually evening out. He could feel Sirius’ heart thumping through his body, nuzzled him protectively. They swayed together in perfect harmony, Sirius’ cheek pressed against his own, one arm snaking up his back to hold him tighter.  
   
They closed their eyes, swayed and rotated to the music, holding each other in comfortable, blissful quiet.  
   
He wanted to say it, a truth so simple and heartfelt - _I think I love you more than anything_ - but didn’t want to break the precious moment. He felt utterly content, dancing with Sirius in his arms. It’s as if this was what he’d been missing, all this time.  
   
It’s a memory he will cherish and curse equally in years to come. Sometimes he will even revisit it in his dreams, except there is only the two of them and often they are crying. Remus whispering desperate questions into his ear:  _Why? Why did you do it? How could you do it to them? To me? To us? Was any of it real?_  
   
And Sirius, despair in his eyes, sometimes laughing cruelly, more often weeping, would beg forgiveness over and over for something he swears he didn’t do.  
   
___________  
   
_1976_  
   
Remus Lupin wanted to kiss Sirius Black.  
   
There was no point in denying it. Remus was a practical boy, always had been. Whether it was dealing with his lycanthropy, one terrible transformation at a time, or accepting the sad but true fact that his friends would always be insufferable show offs, albeit with hearts of gold. They were the best friends he’d ever had, could ever have hoped for. How many people in this world would have accepted him for what he was? Would have broken the law, learning to become animagi for him? Learnt to dangerously transform their bodies at great personal risk to their own health?  
   
He’s exceedingly lucky in some respects, he knows this. He really shouldn’t want to risk everything they have together, shouldn’t want more.  
   
But he really, really wanted to kiss bloody Sirius Black.  
   
Just once. Just to try it. See what all the fuss was about, if the gossip from the many ladies of Hogwarts was anything to go by. He needed to get the urge out of his system.  
   
The only problem was, once he’d kissed those lips for the very first time, he’d found he never really wanted to kiss anyone else’s.  
   
_Oops._  
   
There were many times when this urge flared up. The first time Sirius had shown him what animal he could turn into for example (though he hadn’t really recognised this craving for what it was at the time). The transformation into an enormous black dog and back to human again had been smooth, seamless and utterly impressive. He nearly fainted when a stag and rat had followed his lead.  
   
All he could think was _A dog…A canine. He’s a dog like me…_ Feeling, ridiculously close to tears mixed in with the urge to murder them all for doing something so dangerous and quite simply wonderful, just for him.  
   
The way Sirius had looked at him, so hopeful and nervous, just on the verge of smiling, absurdly pleased with himself. He was waiting so excitedly for Remus’ reaction (so dog-like his animal form made perfect sense), all he wanted to do was sweep him into his arms and… He wasn’t sure, but he knew now.  
   
(Consequentially, he had scolded them all, chiding them for keeping something so huge from him, risking their lives even, before fighting back tears and hugging all three of them at once, fiercely hard. They had looked a mixture of pleased and thoroughly terrified).  
   
He’d wanted to kiss him on the night of the Yule Ball. Just for one confused moment, as Sirius had leaned close, fixing his tie. He had kissed Alice Peabody instead, chaste and gentlemanly, heart not in it and head with someone else entirely.  
   
He’d wanted to kiss him many times after the full moon, just before the sickness inevitably kicked in. High on the adrenaline of a good chase, animal friends by his side in the moonlight, roaming the grounds, young and invincible. He’d wake up with Sirius by his side, grin firmly in place though eyes watching him anxiously: _“That was excellent….”_  
   
He usually wanted to do it even more the night after, recovering in the infirmary, feeling too shaky and nauseous (nothing compared to the days without his pack by his side though, to Madam Pomfrey’s bewilderment. She used to have to practically scrape him off the floor every morning). Especially on the nights when an invisibility cloak covered lump lay down on the covers next to him, whipping it off to reveal a concerned Sirius, stretching out by his side. He wrapped a comforting arm round him, pulled him close. “How you feeling Mr Moony?” He’d ask quietly into his ear.  
   
“Like I ate some bad mushrooms and got battered by a stag.”  
   
“Yep, that about sums it up,” Sirius’ laughter vibrated right through him and he snuggled back into that reassuring warmth behind him. A hand carded through his tawny hair softly, slow breath soothing him back into sleep. “You’re amazing…”  
   
Sometimes he’d hear Sirius humming under his breath, something soothing that had made his heart flutter with a desperate kind of longing.  
   
He’d wanted to kiss him and hit him and kick him when he’d found out about Sirius’ so called prank. Why? Why would he do something so reckless, so thoughtless? What if Severus had been bitten? What if he had _killed_ him? He’d raged at Sirius, furiously pushing him away and later holding him, Sirius begging for forgiveness. _I need you, I’m so sorry. I try so hard to be a good person, you have no idea... The things he said about you, about us… I lost my mind._ It had taken a long while for things to get anywhere near back to normal between them, whatever that was. But Remus was a compassionate, forgiving boy. He needed Sirius as well. The thought of not having him in his life anymore, tore a ragged hole inside of him. He would be forever grateful to James Potter for rescuing the boy they’d all hated, and saving so much more in the process.  
   
Something had shifted between them after that night. Their relationship was more honest, more raw and vulnerable. He missed him when he went on holidays with James’ family. They somehow always managed to visit him on wolf nights, even on summer holidays, Peter in tow for which he was incredibly grateful.  
   
He’d wanted to either kiss him or thump him one when he, James and Peter had pelted him with snow balls on his way to class across the courtyard one winter. Instead he’d joined in, charming lumps of snow to hit his three grossly unprepared targets with extreme force, speed and deadly accuracy. Soon the whole school had joined in, hurling snowballs enhanced with magic. The air was filled with stampeding feet and screams of laughter.  
   
“Cheat!” Sirius had full body tackled him into a snow drift, body spread on top of him, wiping his soaking wet, freezing cold hands across his face until Remus had shrieked for mercy, leaving them both shaking with laughter. He tried to buck him off, squirming breathlessly, knowing it was quite hopeless.  
   
The laughter died down, though their smiles didn’t. Sirius had stared down at him, eyes bright, body a warm contrast to the snow beneath him. Remus had pushed a damp lock out of his face, cupped a flushed cheek and –  
   
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” Professor McGonagall had roared at the epic snow fight with impressive volume for such a small woman, scattering fearful students with her fury. Sirius leapt off him, leaving Remus still lying there winded in the snow, soaking wet, shivering and unsure whether to curse or bless the feisty professor’s timing.  
   
Sirius and James had been blamed for the entire incident, naturally.  
   
However, when it eventually happened, Remus privately decided it must have been the dumbest first kiss ever. It actually annoyed him for many years later, on reflection. So anticlimactic, after many months spent fantasising over new and wonderful ways to make their first kiss actually happen. It started with giving the snow fight a satisfactory ending and grew into a wonderful piece of drama involving rescuing him from an assortment of deadly creatures, scooping a grateful Sirius into his arms, tipping him back and laying an award winning kiss upon his handsome face. He embarrassed himself sometimes.  
   
They had been sitting close together on a bench in the deserted library, parchment and books spread out before them. Sirius was keeping him company as he tried to complete his potions essay: _‘The Subtle Uses of Sage and Rosemary in Natural Healing Drafts.’_ In fact, he had been hindering rather than helping, having finished his own essay with ease over two days ago (infuriating) and was now using his time to look for ‘inspiration for friendly hijinks’ (his words exactly meaning, of course, _twisted pranks_ ) whilst sitting rather too close and looking casually gorgeous.  
   
“This one makes wands produce only ducks! Can you imagine?” He cried excitedly making Remus messily blot his parchment with ink. “I’m definitely using that…”  
   
“Padfoot…” Remus warned.  
   
“Though I think there’s something to be said for a nice, simple contrary canary hex, perhaps with a hint of Midas’ Touch… Very Gryffindor.” He smiled wickedly.   
   
Remus let out a pained sigh, rubbing his temples.  “You can’t just make Slytherin House sprout red and gold feathers like that. You don’t know if the two spells are even compatible for one thing. Could give them massive boils or something.” He warned, concentration broken. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sirius grinned.

Remus rolled his eyes, relenting, knowing it was probably safer for the house’s health if he helped a little. “Maybe you could try looking in-”  
   
But he never got to make his suggestion as Sirius’ lips met his, cutting the idea, and all other thoughts off completely. His hand cupped his cheek, mouth moving insistently against his own, assertive and warm.   
   
It was all too brief, Sirius pulled back to regard him with pleased but anxious eyes.  
   
“Sirius!” He choked out.  
   
It took him a moment to realise two horrific things. One: his mouth was hanging open; and two: he hadn’t kissed back. His face reddened and he squirmed with embarrassment, not quite meeting Sirius’ eyes.  
   
Sirius Black had stolen his thunder.  
   
“Well?” Sirius’ voice was shaken though low and encouraging. He risked a glance, saw his friend lick his bottom lip briefly, found it hard to tear his eyes away.  
   
After correcting Horrific Thing One (jaw snapping shut with a click), he quickly moved to amend Horrific Thing Two, practically grabbing Sirius’ face and pulling him even closer. He missed, noses bumping, lips meeting the corner of Sirius’ smiling mouth. He corrected with a curse and as their lips met once more, something in his chest soared, his palms began to sweat and a low heat bloomed within his stomach, in ridiculously fast succession. He breathed into him, tasting his laughter, feeling a strange sort of completion he never knew he required.  
   
This made sense. This was right. This was why it could never possibly work before. The lips needed to belong to Sirius Black. Of course.  
   
He laughed into the messy, uncoordinated kiss, which on reflection, was actually pretty close to perfect.  
   
Sirius clutched at his robes, made a pleased noise against his lips, and corrected the course by kissing him more surely, lips gliding, barest hint of tongue against his lower lip which he desperately wanted to explore further, before remembering their location. Sirius guided him so expertly; it was an effort to pull apart. He was pleased to see his friend looking distinctly pinker, breathing as heavily as he was.  
   
“What was that about?” He asked roughly, scared it would turn out to be an awful practical joke of some kind.  
   
“Oh come off it Moony,” Sirius had chided, stroking his thumb along Remus’ jawline, affection and exasperation warring across his expression. “It was long overdue.”  
   
Remus couldn’t agree more. Which is why they spent the rest of the free period practising some more in an empty classroom. This time, he didn’t miss Sirius’ mouth, pressed his whole body against him, and floated round the castle with a huge smile for next few days.  
   
   
_____________  
   
_1996_  
   
_He clung to the slight form above him, bucking up, striving for more skin contact. No matter how hard he gripped, he couldn’t ever seem to get close enough..._  
   
It felt strange to be in Sirius’ old house, surrounded by books filled with questionably dark subject matters, shrunken elf heads and other deeply unpleasant memorabilia that resisted being removed. Dusty old portraits hung on every floor, filled with haughty people who looked very much like Sirius but with none of the warmth in his eyes. He’d never given Remus such a venomous look either. Severus perhaps…  
   
He’d found one under the bed in the spare room where he now slept most nights, whilst checking for any nasty surprises. The picture was scrunched up half-heartedly, as though the culprit couldn’t quite bring themselves to throw it away. Two boys, one taller and broader shouldered than the other, both dark haired, grey eyed and very handsome. Sirius and Regulus, though the elder’s moving image kept hiding on the edge of the photograph whilst Regulus alternated between posing regally and looking sulkily back at his big brother.  
   
He hid it back where he’d found it, something indescribably sad in the way the siblings kept missing each other’s glances.  
   
He’d never seen the house before Sirius had offered it to the Order. The Blacks would rather have made a fur coat out of him than invite him over for dinner. He wasn’t fond of it, with its dank, narrow hallways and lingering coldness.  
   
They lay on top of Sirius’ old four poster bed, surrounded by Gryffindor banners, muggle pictures (non-moving bikini clad women) and old photos that carefully averted their eyes from the scene in front of them. He entwined his fingers in Sirius’ hair, pulling a little, trying to keep him there with him, coaxing a response. Sirius grunted, not meeting his eyes, and bore down harder.  
   
He had tried very hard not to fall back into old habits. Sirius had never seemed very interested in renewing their intimacy at Remus’ place, not initially. He’d even preferred to sleep on the living room floor in dog form, snoring louder than he ever did when human, keeping Remus awake most nights (he’d found it amusing and strangely comforting. And Sirius had felt safer in that form).  
   
Then he’d woken one morning to find the dog curled up at the foot of his bed, and half across Remus’ leg. Massive, drooling and making his foot go completely numb. Remus’ initial reaction had been to shoo the beast off, until he was fully awake and remembered that this was the least he could allow him.  
   
Then eventually, the night came when Sirius was sharing his bed in human form. It was inevitable, though innocent enough. Sirius pressed against his back, breath hot on the back of his neck, holding Remus close for comfort. Often when Sirius had actually managed to sleep, he suffered from terrible nightmares. Remus would have to wake him gently, smooth his hair back, hold him until he stopped shaking, murmuring reassurances in the dark that sounded like lies to the both of them:  _You’re fine…It’s going to be okay… I’ve got you… You’re safe now…_  Until Sirius would wake fully, batting him away, looking flustered.  
   
Whenever Remus was home, they talked a great deal whilst he tried to fatten Sirius up. They reminisced, staying on safe subjects, remembering the good times – epic pranks, the wedding, that one time they’d stayed in bed all weekend after a particularly painful full moon. They did nothing but eat chocolate, play games and laugh a ridiculous amount, Sirius smoothing anti scar cream into his skin with tender hands which had led to other glorious things... Some memories contained less safe subjects, he supposed. They’d carefully edited Peter out of many of their memories too. Like the time they went swimming in the lake in animal form. Padfoot insisted he’d successfully communicated with the giant squid. Said his name was Jeremy…

_“Dogs have a natural affinity with great-big oversized cephalopods - didn’t you know?”_

_“Stop showing off.”_  
   
The bed sharing was a silent arrangement, never openly discussed. Sometimes Sirius would migrate over from the sofa, but more often his solemn grey eyes would meet Remus’ and they’d slip under the covers together. It was confusing, to wake in the circle of Sirius’ arms, tangled together once more, seeing that dark hair spread across his pillow. He’d had a few awkward dreams of old memories ( _that daring night in the prefects’ bathroom, skin slick against his for the very first time, nervous and excited, hands exploring cautiously, then eagerly, then frantically_ ). His body confused the present with the past, colliding until he had to extract himself from his friend’s hold, putting the necessary distance between them.  
   
Sirius never initiated anything more until they’d he’d moved back into Grimmauld Place, his much hated childhood home.  
   
“It’s like swapping one prison for another,” He’d confessed gloomily to Remus one day, as they attempted to throw away some of his parents more hideous possessions (such as a biting tea cup. Why?! Just why?).  
   
His mood swings had gradually returned, veering from laughter and good humour, to deep sullen silences that trickled throughout the entire household, affecting everyone under the same roof, tearing them down. His downcast moods mostly coincided whenever Remus was absent for a number of days, or when the children had to return to Hogwarts. It was somewhat painful to see such deterioration. Sirius was becoming increasingly distressed, trapped inside his nightmarish family home, with only grim memories of the past to keep him company.  
   
So Remus had moved in practically full time whenever he wasn’t spying for the Order. Company helped a little, at least on the surface. Sirius tried to make an effort, though he still paced a lot, wringing his hands, smile growing more strained. He grew increasingly frustrated at not being able to join in the fight, and was also, quite simply, extremely bored.    
   
Remus knew the signs well enough. It often preceded reckless behaviour and with half the ministry and a fleet of dementors still searching for him, reckless behaviour could become very dangerous indeed.  
   
So he’d kept him distracted. Refreshing his duelling skills with the new wand freshly procured for him. Making him sole carer of Buckbeak. Cleaning the house from top to bottom (though it was more like waging war, the house fought back). Cooking together like an old married couple – even learning how to make the Wolfsbane potion, since Snape wouldn’t always be around in these volatile times. They often listened to the wireless, hearing fudged reports of disappearances that were quite clearly being hushed up (Sirius had looked so furious, hands shaking with memories, that Remus had to turn it off).  
   
They had been washing dishes the slow way, without the aid of magic (Sirius had smashed plates in his enthusiasm last time he’d used a wand). They were just passing time together after a splendid meal of cottage pie, green beans and rich thick gravy that had Sirius practically licking the plate. Remus had raised his eyebrows at this: _You’re not a dog now!_ Causing Sirius to innocently respond: _What? It’s a compliment! You should be flattered._  
   
All was strangely peaceful in the cramped and dusty kitchen. Except for the drip of the tap and occasional clink of china, it was quite cosy.  
   
Then it happened. Just like the first time, taken by surprise but with a strange kind of inevitability. They both reached for the same plate in the warm, soapy water, hands meeting below the surface, an accidental brush of fingers. Then Sirius’ hand was completely covering his, first gentle then squeezing tight. Their eyes met, Sirius’ expression inscrutable, though calculating. There was something quite heated in his direct gaze, a look Remus hadn’t seen in many years. He was almost relieved to see Sirius showing actual emotion, he’d become so aloof lately. Then a flicker of helpless heat flared in his stomach as Sirius moved closer, clearly coming to some kind of decision, hand still trapped in the water, pressing him back into the sink.  
   
Then both hands were holding his face, one damp, bubbles tickling against his stubble. Sirius was so near, eyes intent on his. He breathed heavily, lips tauntingly close to his own yet not closing the distance. He rested his forehead against Remus’, eyes slipping shut, apparently savouring their closeness, hips pressed together. He waited, seemingly until Remus’ heart was racing, until his body helplessly responded, leaning in, only then did he close the gap, finally kissed him.  
   
It was fierce, slow burning yet intensely restrained, as though Sirius were holding himself back. There was a bitter edge as he held Remus in place, hands rough against his skin where they used to be smooth, body now slight and wiry, sharp angles pressing insistently against him. It was their first kiss in over fourteen years and though there were differences, his body remembered the man in front of him, responded accordingly, if a little desperately. Heat flared through him, overwhelming his senses, _oh god how much I missed this…_  
   
His taste, his touch, their passion remained the same though it felt as if Sirius were punishing him, pushing into him. Remus gripped his waist, dragged his body crushingly closer, pushing back. Sirius practically mouthed at him, teeth scraping, nipping his lip until it hurt, tugging at his hair in a way he’d always liked, if not harder than usual. The sink was hurting his back, digging in, his temperature rocketed with desire and he felt his fine control slipping…  
   
He tried to push him away, but it took too long to actually do so, to get his limbs to respond. He had to really shove him back, lips feeling raw and arms empty at the sudden loss of contact. He didn’t want this…this almost violent act of lust. He craved gentle lips and hands from a man he feared was no longer present. Sirius wasn’t thinking straight; he was bored, frustrated, erratic. This wasn’t his fault.  
   
He moved away from the sink, trying to steady himself whilst Sirius blazed.   
   
Remus shook his head as if to clear it, ran a hand over his mouth. “This is wrong.” He murmured. “You’re not yourself.”

“Then who am I?” Sirius mused, voice ragged.

“I won’t take advantage of you like this.” Remus answered firmly, ignoring him.  
   
Sirius’ eyes widened, taken aback. He sighed, before his spine stiffened with apparent resolve. “I want you,” He answered simply, causing Remus to swallow hard. Sirius slowly moved closer, prowling with a kind of building confidence that he found undeniably sexy.  
   
How long had it been since someone had told him that they wanted him? Had made him feel this way? He clenched his fingers in an attempt to keep them to himself, feeling manipulated. Sirius made him weak, always had…  
   
 “That’s not fair,” He sighed, feeling frustrated as Sirius stood before him again, moving more like a dog than ever, positioning, waiting.  
   
“I need you,” He replied in a low and reasonable voice, sending a shiver down Remus’ spine. It wasn’t just the words, but the way he said them. Quiet and firm, as if it were a fact, an indisputable part of him. “I need you to give me this or I’ll go crazy.”  
   
A breath shuddered out of Remus, it was suddenly all too much. He tried to ignore the scent of him (stale drink with that once familiar, mouth-watering familiar musk). It surrounded him, warmth radiated from his body. He realised just how futile resisting him was. They couldn’t do this, they could never just be friends. He couldn’t not want him, couldn’t not be in love with him, had never stopped, even when he thought he’d betrayed them.  
   
He should never have let them take him.  
   
Love is addiction, he realised, trying not to collapse from the realisation of how much they’d lost, how much they may still end up losing. The effort of keeping himself away from Sirius was almost painful when every part of him yearned to feel his touch once more.  
   
“Sirius …” He whispered, still unsure.  
   
“You don’t want me?” Asked Sirius quietly, in a small voice that made Remus’ heart lurch.  
   
_Foolish, foolish man…_ He pulled Sirius close, pressed flush against him so he could feel just how much he wanted him.  
   
Then promptly realised that was probably the exact reaction Sirius wanted. But by this point he was already kissing him so there was pretty much nothing he could do about that.  
   
“You’re insufferable,” He growled between kisses, feeling Sirius’ triumphant smile curve against his lips. Somehow there were washing-up bubbles in Sirius’ hair and he could taste the wine he’d drunk at dinner, spicy and sweet. He kissed him urgently, desperately, pushing his body against him, hands in his hair, scratching the way he’d always liked. He ground against him, causing them both to groan.  
   
“Hate it here,” Sirius gasped between kisses.  
   
“I know…” Remus soothed, hands slipping under Sirius’ shirt, pressing into smooth skin hungrily. He was determined to create some good memories together, to hold him and let him know he is loved, that he was always loved, even when he was trapped in this hell as a child.  
   
“Want you…” Sirius repeated and Remus couldn’t hear it enough so he let him have him. Let Sirius lead him to his room, let Sirius tear their clothes off, let him take him in mute desperation. He held him, palmed the warmth of him, causing Sirius to shudder as he slid his hand along his length, familiarising, savouring this quiet moment amongst the chaos.  
   
Something inside howled in triumph when Sirius entered him for the first time in many years. His lover trembled with the effort of going carefully, reminding Remus of just how long it had been for him. And when Remus encouraged him to not hold back, he didn’t protest.  
   
“Sorry, it’s too much. I can’t, have to…”  
   
His hips snapped hard, dragging his lean body over Remus’ again and again. So Remus clenched around him hard, lightly scraped nails down his spine, kissing him desperately, wanting it to be so good. It was as rough as any pre-wolf night, shivering over the line of pleasure and pain and Remus had shuddered and moaned and bucked and came, loving every damn second of it.  
   
Then Sirius was falling apart, apologising again, unable to last after so long locked away. He finished, buried deep inside him, fingers clenching his hips, angling just right; wet, warm and achingly familiar.  
   
“Missed you… Missed you so much…”  
   
___________  
   
   
It became a regular occurrence. Whenever the house was empty, sometimes even when it wasn’t (Kreacher had been suitably traumatised, spitting out nasty illusions to degenerates until Sirius had thrown a boot at him with deadly accuracy. Served him right for eavesdropping). Whenever things got a little too dark, too much, they would lie down and learn each other’s bodies all over again. Sometimes Sirius was rough and absent, other times warm and tender.  
   
“You’re going grey old man,” Murmured a sleepy Sirius one particularly memorable time, curled round on his side so they could lie face to face. One hand traced idle patterns on his hip, gliding over slight softness of his stomach, the other linked with Remus’ hand, rough thumb stroking repetitively.  
   
“Don’t start,” Yawned Remus, tangling his legs with his friend’s, feeling drowsy and warm. “You look a little bit different too, case you failed to notice.”   
   
“Uglier?” Sirius answered shrewdly, not missing a beat.  
   
“Hideous,” Remus agreed, voice dripping with heavy sarcasm. He wouldn’t entertain that line of self-pity, not when Sirius was looking so bloody gorgeous, he can’t have failed to notice. More mature sure, but his teeth were white again, hair clean, dark and steadily thickening. His skin was unscarred, colour healthy, tattoos not so terrible — only serving as a reminder of his strength from surviving what he’d been through. And he was filling out again, despite those prominent cheekbones, something Remus only too happily demonstrated by sinking his fingers into the of cheeks of his shapely ass with great delight. “That’s why I can’t keep my hands off you.”   
   
“Stop pawing the goods mister.” Sirius had kissed him then, pulling him close. “Hmm…missed this,” He purred. Then had proceeded to kiss every new scar gained since the last time they were truly together all those years ago; collarbone, sternum, nipples, soft stomach, biceps, making him feel beautiful and extremely aroused in the process.  
   
He trailed damp kisses over the soft skin of his inner thighs, lips making ridiculously erotic sounds.  
   
“Don’t have any scars there!” Remus gasped, protesting weakly, even as his traitorous hands found their way into Sirius’ hair.  
   
“I know…” Sirius replied breezily, before his mouth touched him somewhere he hadn’t been kissed for a very long time, making Remus’ hips jolt right off the bed. “Missed this too,” He winked.  
   
After all this time, he still knew how to tease him, how to make him writhe and moan. How to make him beg…  
   
Afterwards when they lay spent, wrapped up in each other, Sirius had asked sleepily: “You think we would have made it?”  
   
“What do you mean?” Remus asked, though his heart started to pound less pleasantly at the question. Sirius’ voice was no longer playful, he sounded thoughtfully pensive.  
   
“D you reckon we’d have stayed together if none of this had ever happened? Lily, James, Peter, Azkaban... Him.” He sighed deeply against Remus’ skin.  
   
Remus glanced at his dearest friend, saw a darkness growing behind his eyes and realised it had always been there since Sirius had escaped from prison, he’d just been hiding it well. He wound his arms round his body, Sirius hid his face into his neck, breath shuddering strangely against his skin.  
   
Remus lay there in the dark for moment, considering. The image was too unfair, too painfully possible but far beyond their reach. “I don’t think it matters either way.” He’d answered sadly. “We shall never know.” Whilst inside he thought:  _Yes.  
   
Yes yes yes yes yes…_  
   
He could feel a part of Sirius withdraw into his own mind again, knew it would only continue to get worse. All he could do was wrap his arms tighter around him, hold him through the darkness of the night.  
______________  
   
   
He waited for Sirius to finish, wrapping his hand around himself so they could arrive together, as if that meant anything at all. Sounds of their completion echoed through the empty house. Sweat trickled slowly down his back, he gritted his teeth as Sirius pulled out, rolling off of him to lie by his side and stare at the ceiling morosely. Soon he would get dressed and leave him all alone. Remus already felt his loss.   
   
He’d informed Sirius that he would have to leave soon. A new mission with his second cousin, Tonks. Sirius seemed to become more sullen at the mention of her name, though Remus had no idea why that would be. She was perfectly nice: brave, kind, endearingly clumsy and the daughter of his favourite cousin. Remus was baffled. She bought laughter back into this house. Leaving aside Sirius’ new quirk, the bottom line was Dumbledore wanted him back in the action, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. One by one, Grimmauld Place was slowly emptying out. Even Kreacher was strangely absent these days…leaving Sirius completely alone.  
   
Sirius had grown increasingly distant. Remus was deeply worried for him, bit he knew he had to put his duties for the Order before their relationship. Just like before, repeating the mistakes of the past, he had realised bitterly, hating himself a little. 

Today Sirius had snapped at Remus at breakfast then spent all day locked up in his mother’s former room with Buckbeak, tending to the apparently poorly creature. He couldn’t stand to see him so. Later that night, he had gathered his courage, had slipped into bed beside him (Sirius was usually the instigator). He’d held him from behind, moulded his body to his. Had kissed his throat, glided hands over warm skin until Sirius had teasingly pressed the curve of his ass back into him. Remus had smiled, knowing Sirius wasn’t going to hex him out of the room any time soon.  
   
After they finished, Remus felt him slipping away once more. Had leant over him, taken his face in his hands, kissed him longingly. It had been a desperate attempt to connect. He felt the man beneath him begin to stir, the clutch of his hands on his waist, the rush of breath against his lips. He poured hopeless love into every caress, pulling back only when they were satisfactorily breathless. Sirius’ hands reflexively curled against his skin in a way that was most pleasing, made a very optimistic flare of arousal unfurl in his stomach.  
   
“Um…Hello?” He said weakly, hovering over a bemused Sirius. He missed that look, the raised brows of superiority. It made him look young again.  
   
“Er, hi?”   
   
“Don’t shut down again, okay?” He asked boldly in a rush, threading his fingers through Sirius’ hair. He pressed a kiss to his Adam’s apple just so he wouldn’t have to meet those eyes, so clear and open. He couldn’t stand to see any more hostility there ( _Why are you here Moony? Are you my babysitter? Am I your pet project?_ It had hurt but he couldn’t blame him really. And he always apologised afterwards, voice gruff and self-conscious like when he was a boy. Some things never changed).  
   
Sirius huffed laughter against the top of his head, to his relief. Sirius was like a time bomb these days. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a weird little guy Moony Lupin?”   
   
“That I suppose, would be your job.” He mumbled, risked a glance, saw only affection (and some confusion) there.  
   
“True,” Sirius concurred. He felt him swallow. Then his hands were in his hair, stroking in that steady way he’d always enjoyed, as if they belonged there. “You know I’m sorry about earlier, right?”  
   
Remus blinked, the hands continued their relaxing movements, down his nape. “You have nothing to apologise for.” He said graciously. Sirius had been rather unpleasant.  
   
“You know what a drama queen I can be.” He sighed.  
   
“Yes.” Remus agreed a little too quickly, causing Sirius to swat his arm.  
   
“Trying to be all honest with the sharing of the feelings here. Thought you would approve.” His voice cracked indignantly.  
   
“Oh I do.” Remus smiled, draping his body over the warm form beneath him, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. He loved that sound. “I’m just worried you’re some kind of evil polyjuice double, come to destroy us all.”  
   
Sirius snorted. “If so, you’re fraternising with the enemy and the real me would be bloody furious.” He tutted. “In my own bed and all…”  
   
“Think I’ll take my chances,” Remus yawned, limbs heavy, body rising and falling with every breath Sirius took. It was the most relaxed they had been around each other in weeks.  
   
There were a few moments of contented silence, hearts pressed against each other’s, before Remus remembered to ask humbly: “How is Buckbeak?” He’d actually begun to resent that big old chicken the past few days, as ridiculous as that sounded. Sirius seemed to use him as an excuse to hide away from him. His enquiry was a peace offering since Sirius seemed to care so much for the hippogriff.  
   
“He’s okay,” answered Sirius. “Can’t understand how he cut himself like that though…” Remus hummed thoughtfully, not knowing how important this would later become.  
   
He didn’t give it much thought as Sirius’ hands were now ghosting over the smooth skin of his back causing him to wriggle with pleasure and approval. It was probably the least scarred part of him, and one of the most sensitive.  
   
“I only fuss over you like an old woman because I care.” He blurted into Sirius’ skin, suddenly remembering the barb Sirius had hurled his way earlier.  
   
Sirius winced, laughed uneasily. “Did I really say that?”  
   
“You really did,” He sighed, deciding to get it over with. “I’m not a ‘fuss pot.’ I’m just scared you’ll get so bored, you’ll want to leave the house and I can’t lose you again.” He tried to steady his voice. “You’re an idiot man-child but you’re _my_ idiot man-child.”  
   
There was a moment of silence whilst Sirius was clearly considering his words, deciding whether to be annoyed or touched. Remus held his breath, really didn’t feel like being kicked out of bed tonight. 

It was something of a relief when Sirius finally answered. “Who said romance was dead?” He huffed, hands giving Remus’ biceps a reassuring squeeze. “And you are a fuss pot. A saucy fuss pot.” His voice rumbled.  
   
“Pads…”  
   
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be a good boy. Promise.” When Remus found the energy to lift his head, to detect any trace of sarcasm, he was pleased to see none whatsoever. So he kissed him, slow and deep, just the way they used to when their bodies were flushed with hormones and they had endless hours to do nothing but this.  
   
The hours had seemed endless anyway. Turned out, it wasn’t enough.  
   
“Never enough time…” Remus murmured sadly into Sirius’ lips.  
   
Sirius hadn’t even had a chance to live yet, had traded one prison for another. Never really had a home, except maybe with the Potters.  
   
“When all this is over, and you’re an innocent man once more, we’re getting out of here.” Remus promised softly, continuing the trail of his thoughts out loud.  
   
Sirius grinned, sitting up so Remus was forced to straddle him. “Oh yeah?”  
   
“Yes,” Remus nodded, trying to follow the conversation when Sirius’ hands were on his hips and his lap was so warm.  
   
“Can we get a big house?” Sirius teased.  
   
Remus grinned, remembering their old game of let’s pretend. “Only the biggest, with towers and a moat.”  
   
“And a garden as large as the Hogwarts grounds?”  
   
“Why not?” He shrugged lightly, trying to ignore the way Sirius was wriggling underneath him. They were practically middle-aged for goodness sake! Padfoot was insatiable. “No whomping willows. But maybe some cocoa plants…” He added wistfully, craving chocolate.  
   
“With a couple of dragons,” Added Sirius, hands stroking soft skin.  
   
“As long as they leave the flock of hippogriffs alone.” He wound his arms around Sirius’ neck, enjoying the game immensely.  
   
“And I want a pool so I can practice my doggy paddle.”  
   
“Naturally. And a gold toilet for you to drink from.”  
   
“You bet! And a sex swing?”  
   
“Yeah- and a _what?_ ” Remus spluttered.  
   
“Not sure but it certainly sounds like something I’d wish to pursue further,” He answered ruefully, accent becoming more crisp as it always did when he was excited. He waggled his eyebrows madly causing Remus to let out an undignified snort of laughter.  
   
“Think I’m going to have to overrule that idea, Pads.”  
   
“Okay, well can it at least be in the country. Somewhere I can see the stars and you can transform in peace…” His voice had lost that teasing tone, sincerity threading through his words as if he’d given it some real thought before now. Remus shifted closer, skin sliding over skin, face to face with Sirius. He brushed a lock of hair back, touched by his consideration.  
   
“Of course,” He eventually replied, voice laced with emotion.  
   
“Remus I –”  
   
But he never found out what Sirius had been meaning to say.  
   
They got dressed in a hurry. The voice of Severus Snape was a mood killer at the best of times, never mind when it was apparently laced with extreme urgency amongst the loathing.  
   
They rushed downstairs, and Snape had sneered those fateful words at them, practically spat them out:  
   
“It’s your wonderful godson. I believe he has done something incredibly reckless…”  
   
There was no stopping Sirius from going to the Department of Mysteries that night. No stopping him at all. That brave, fierce, reckless, loyal, loving, laughing boy. 

His Sirius Black.  
 

________

**Author's Note:**

> I hate to end it there but you can’t fight good ‘ol JK (how could she?!).  
>    
> These two kind of took over my life for a while. This was a series of interconnected drabbles prompted through Tumblr. Feel free to comment with more suggestions if you fancy reading more. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. 


End file.
